


Blooms and Thorns

by Searece



Series: Memories and Times [26]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9372527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searece/pseuds/Searece
Summary: Focused on Prowl, but Jazz is a vine.  Yes, a plant.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Vine Jazz. No-war AU? Yeah, here's another old thing I won't finish but had fun writing. Notes about this are at the end.

It was the season for vines to start growing again. Praxians adored the season. While the vines they celebrated were considered weeds in other parts of Cybertron, Praxus thought of the pests as life givers. Legend told that the first Praxians lacked the means to produce the liquid fuel so common and essential to their kind. The first Praxians, weary and starving, had found a land filled with large patches of crawling metal vines. Some sources said that it was first a sparkling who had consumed one of the soft crystals on the vines, others said an elder who didn't care if what he consumed was poisonous or not. Yet other sources said that their very sparks had known to take in the energon berries as sustenance.

Prowl leaned towards the first one.

Mythological tales spoke of creatures more spirit than frame that resided in the twisted metal. In certain texts, these creatures despised mecha and only wished for their demise. More often, the creatures played with the Praxians of early folklore. The most popular rendition of the legends recited that the vines themselves were living, benevolent creatures that only revealed themselves in cases of emergency, such as when a mecha was deathly ill or in danger and didn't know it.

Prowl liked the tale of _The Fading and The Petite_ , a story about a young mech with a deteriorating spark and one of the kind vine creatures who told the mech of the condition he had. The mechlet had been devastated when he finally believed the creature. Nothing could have been done for the mechlet, but somehow he had determined to make the best of his condition, at least with the vine's help. The mechlet grew adventurous with the vine, the vine encouraging him every step of the way. Eventually the mechlet confessed to the vine his love. The vine too admitted that he felt more for the now-grown mech than he should.

Prowl had always loved that tale, even when he was a sparkling.

"Hey, Prowl!" shouted someone, disrupting his thoughts quite rudely.

He frowned at that, his engine growling in his chest as he turned to face the mech calling him. His cold amber optics pierced into Bluestreak's as the mech rushed up to him and started chattering. Prowl mostly tuned the younger mech out except to nod and shake his head where appropriate.

"Aren't you excited about this season, Prowl?" asked the merchant.

"Indeed I am," his optics softened a bit as he spoke. Bluestreak had never minded his sharp personality. "Something will happen this vorn, I feel." A sense of dread and excitement coiled in his spark, giving him chills and making his plating flare. He wasn't sure what to make of the sensations coursing through him, only knew that he'd never had this feeling before. His wings trembled and twitched as he tried to resist thinking about it. He'd come out to relax for once, not work himself up more.

"Oh, do you know what?" inquired Bluestreak.

"Not at all, though I would rather stay away from the topic."

"Oh, okay," the mech trailed off, "Well, I guess I'd best be going. It was fun talking to you!"

Prowl nodded and watched the mech jauntily hop away. When he was gone, he shook his head, wondering what went wrong with Bluestreak's upbringing to make him so happy. Prowl had never been so fortunate to have been a very optimistic sparkling, having been quite the opposite, always being negative even from a very young age. Everyone always called him pessimistic, though he called himself a realist. Either way, he usually held a rather dim ad grim outlook on his life that quite a few had tried to change. Prowl eventually got tired of them trying to change him and quit looking for someone to love.

That had made him a rather bitter mech, to be honest.

With a sigh, he sat down on a stone bench imported from Polyhex that had vines winding all around its base. Really, why couldn't mecha just accept him the way he was? It was incredibly frustrating, especially since he was something of an unsocial mech. Introvert, antisocial, unsociable, unsocial were all things he'd been called before, though not necessarily meanly. He didn't often hate the company of others, just got mildly annoyed like he had with Bluestreak a few minutes ago. Sometimes he just liked his solitude more than he liked or wanted the company of other living beings who were capable of responding intelligently, which also meant that he was usually perfectly fine with the company of mechanimals. At least mechanimals wouldn't judge him for complaining to them. They also seemed to sympathize with him better, if that was even possible. Prowl didn't really care if that was possible or not.

Getting back to the topic at servo, however, what he did care about was tending to the vines in the gardens. Anyone could tend to them, but those who were serious could attend free classes at various areas around Praxus. Prowl tried to attend at least one class every month, which gave him quite a bit of peace in his hectic life at times. Plants in general calmed him, even more so than mechanimals did. Plants just gave him a sense of serenity that lasted for days, something that astounded his coworkers, not that they knew the source of his peace.

His optics dimmed, and he shut them to conserve energy as he leaned his helm against the floating crystal behind him. As it almost knowingly hummed, he lifted a servo to blindly stroke over its soft surface and relaxed even more. Petting plants had the same effect on him petting cybercats had for most other mecha, and the only reason he didn't pet the vines he loved most was that he didn't want their thorns embedded in his digits. Occasionally he would tenderly handle them, but not often despite his longing for it. In addition to their calming effect on him, he found them absolutely adorable, especially the vines with how they coiled around whatever they touched if they had enough time. He liked them so much that he even grew them in his house, mostly taking in diseased plants that were small enough to keep in a pot in his apartment, or in a little box just under his windowsill on the outside. The windowsill box was mostly for young vines and miniature crystal trees.

Thinking of young vines and fledgling trees, he was here to visit one of them. His helm turned so he could gently nuzzle the crystal he rested against, the crystal humming even louder in evident pleasure at having its primary caretaker so near.

"Yes, you missed me, did you, Argon?" He could imagine its affirmative to his words, the sight of its healthy glow around him delighting him.

Prowl sighed softly as he patted it and slowly stood to walk around it, keeping his optics off to let his sensorwings guide him. Around the crystal and some pede-lengths away, he stopped beside a tiny tree, one of the miniature versions of its kind, that he'd nurtured some vorns ago. That had been a very delicate assignment, but he'd been confident that he could pull it off. And pull it off he did, eventually making the small rock tree one of the best examples of its kind and the reason many specialists of its kind came to the Gardens. Prowl was very proud of that little tree for surviving.

However, he'd also had many failures to temper his well-placed pride. He hadn't been able to save quite a few of the larger breeds. Well, specimens of the larger breeds. Their losses gnawed at his spark, but despite that he was content with knowing that he had done his best with trying to save them.

Kneeling before the tree, he kissed its leaflets gently and nuzzled it. "You are a beautiful specimen of your kind," he murmured to it. He could almost imagine it saying "thank you" in a voice that was soft yet rough from all the trials it had endured. "You're welcome," he whispered back as he carefully stood.

Turning, his pedes carried him deeper into the garden maze, only living here his entire life keeping him not lost. AS he wandered, he tried to look down so he didn't stumble over any vine that had grown across the path, but failed remarkably. A grunt escaped him as his knees crashed into the ground, his servos bracing his upper body. He cringed as he looked back down at his pedes. "Well hello there, what are you doing in my way?" he asked the quiet little bundle of vines in his path. How they had suddenly gotten there so in his way, he didn't know, because he swore he had checked to make sure he wouldn't trip over any. Either he just hadn't seen them or they had flung themselves in his way just after he'd looked. The second option amused him while the first seemed more likely, if only by a small margin.

His lips twitched as he brushed his digits against the vine's tender leaves, the small new ones that lacked the spines at its edges that the older ones possessed in abundance. "Well you certainly don't deserve to be stepped on again. Here you go," he purred to comfort the softly humming plant as he gently gathered its bundles in his servos. Not wanting to get pricked by its thorns, he didn't close his servos tightly around it as he maneuvered it to coil around the thin trunk of a nearby bushy tree.

"There you go," he purred soothingly to it.

He could have sworn it chirped back at him, and almost tried to hug him, but ignored that in favor of petting some of the tiny buds that were just starting to poke between its fragile leaves. With a soft sigh he pulled back and carefully stood up, making sure not to rip away any of its leaflets in the process.

"Goodbye for now, little vinelet," murmured Prowl, "I'll come back in a few days."

It wilted a bit, rustling in denial.

Prowl chuckled deeply at the seeming response as he walked away.

* * *

 

"Ooh, he's nice~" cooed a soft voice.

"He is," mewed another, sounding quite lovestruck, "so nice!"

"He's so sweet!" whimpered yet another.

"I wish he knew about us."

"Oh, yes, that would be incredible. I could freely caress him then."

"We could all freely touch him then, sweet."

"Don't call me that."

"But you're too cute not to."

"Rah, stop it!"

"No, no, no~!"

"Hehe, you're just mad because you haven't thought of anything to call us."

"Can't you three be quiet?" asked a soft voice. His leaves quivered, "I'm daydreaming."

"I'm so jealous he actually touched you," fluttered the second voice.

"He was so gentle, too, I hadn't expected him to speak, either."

A chorus of rustling leaves quickly answered him, their version of a purr.

"He has such an amazing voice!" mewed the second to speak.

"So deep."

"I bet he'd be a good singer."

"Of course you'd think he'd be a good singer, Jazz."

"Because he would!" Jazz exclaimed with delight, "especially with a voice that handsome!"

"At any rate, we all hope he comes back soon, I'm sure."

"Absolutely!"

"Yes!"

"Very much so!"

* * *

 

Prowl hummed softly as he gently patted down the soil of the small crystal he was working on mending. This was its first replant and he couldn't wait to encourage it to grow. Gently he stroked the petals of its single fragile blossom. These next few days would be crucial to its development, especially as it was so little. If its flower wilted, he would certainly be saddened, but provided that none of its leaves wilted, he'd be relatively happy.

This was the small plant's first bud, and hadn't even opened yet. Prowl knew it was struggling to provide the nutrients for its own survival, which was why he had offered to care for it while its elderly owner was on vacation. He'd replanted it in a new pot full of rich soil to help the little thing grow as it was half the height it should have been.

"You're lucky I'm getting to take care of you. If I hadn't, you might not be here right now," he said softly to it, knowing that talking to the plants usually seemed to help them. He didn't know why they seemed to like talking, but he certainly didn't mind even if it made mecha think he might be going crazy.

The plant's EM field pulsed with every syllable he spoke, in time with him. Teasingly he flicked his own electromagnetic field back at it and crooned softly at the plant. Primus, plants were so cute. Its leaves rustled and it shrank back.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmured as he tenderly stroked up and down the tiny leaves. Slowly the leaves spread out again and Prowl pulled back, "I got you. No need to be shy."

He stood from his crouching position and walked into his kitchen. He had to get to his job eventually.

He would much rather tend to the plants than be an enforcer. Oh, he certainly enjoyed being an enforcer, but sometimes he just detested interacting with other mecha. He scrubbed at his face briefly before he tucked an educational datapad about rare plants into his subspace and strode out his door to get to his other job. Maybe one day he'd retire from the enforcers and become an actual gardener like he wanted to.

* * *

Finally, his daily job as an enforcer was over! He had to admit, if only to himself, that he was never so grateful for a boring day. There were emergencies where he would be called in while he was off, but lately those hadn't been too common. Another thing to be grateful for, he supposed.

Prowl hummed softly to himself as he walked to the crystal gardens. His sensory panels waved contently in the gentle breeze. Around him, mecha bustled and thrummed with life, their EM fields flicking against his in all sorts of greetings. He returned them when he could, but there were too many and he was too focused on his destination.

He walked to the area deep in the gardens where he'd tripped a few days prior, and saw that the vinelet he'd curled around a tree was still winding its way around the tree.

"It's nice to see you again," he said to it as he brushed a digit over its leaves, "Did you miss me?" He knew the plant wouldn't answer, but he asked it anyway. Talking to them helped him focus on whatever problem he thought about.

The plant's leaves flared at his touch.

**Author's Note:**

> Story notes with Chryscare's help for the line ""Ooh, he's nice~" cooed a soft voice.": Maybe after that line, put that leaves rustle in the (quiet?) greenhouse? Make it so people know it's the plants talking and describe the greenhouse a little in the plants' views, like what it's like when no mechs are around. Do other plants in the building, where Prowl was and tripped, sing, speak, or make noise? Would Jazz and the others hear other plants talk about Prowl or other mechs? Maybe describe the scene before jumping into the vines talking. Maybe have each speak differently, or put some kind of action, like one of them has leaves that rustle when they talk and another's vine tendrils could tighten around what he's on.
> 
> Cont. They aren't in a greenhouse. I think they do speak and make noise. Jazz and the others would hear other plants talk about Prowl and other mechs. Prowl would rather be a gardener than an enforcer. Also, I originally imagined four (4) plants speaking and noted in my notebook that their names were Jazz, Misty, Southwind, and Northwind.


End file.
